Chapter 109: Things That Couldn't Be Discarded
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 109: Things That Couldn't Be Discarded
Ferda stood frozen, the words dying in his throat.
‘Erembalt Rosnova.’
The Patriarch of House Rosnova.
Ferda’s father.
The very source of the hatred that had driven him to become a mage in the first place.
“What would you like to do?” Ruri asked.
It was a simple matter. He could just send the man away. Ferda had been cast out of House Rosnova, and since he no longer carried that name, they were effectively strangers. No matter what the man had to say, there was no reason to listen. Doing so would only mean revisiting dark emotions that were better left buried.
Normally, the answer would have been instantaneous.
“Let him in. I will prepare myself.”
“Understood.”
Ferda decided to face him. Even if it turned out to be a mistake, he had to confirm one thing: whether this hatred was still alive.
* * *
After twenty minutes of preparation, Ferda walked down the hallway toward the drawing room. Once he passed through those doors, the man who had personally thrown him out of his own home would be waiting.
Ferda’s feet felt like lead, refusing to move.
“Ruri.”
He spoke to her without turning around.
“Yes.”
“I will go in alone.”
“Understood.”
“And make sure that no one—including yourself—knows what happens inside.”
“...What are you planning to do?” Ruri asked, sensing the gravity of the request.
“I’m asking you as a favor.”
A favor. The word carried more weight than a command, and it only made Ruri feel more uneasy.
“I understand.”
Ruri quietly cast a barrier to seal the room. Sensing the space was now completely isolated, Ferda stepped inside.
There he was.
The man who had treated him with such cruelty before casting him aside. The man who had met every ounce of Ferda’s childhood devotion with even deeper scars.
The moment the man saw Ferda, his face brightened.
“Oh, my son! My son has come!”
It was a hollow pretense of joy. His acting was so awkward that even a child could have seen through it. Perhaps that was why his face seemed all the more wretched.
Ferda felt a strange sense of relief. Thanks to that wave of disappointment, he was able to remain surprisingly calm, contrary to his expectation that his blood would boil.
“Welcome, Lord Rosnova.”
Ferda maintained formal etiquette, drawing a sharp, cold line between them.
Erembalt looked troubled. It was unclear what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't the professional indifference Ferda was displaying.
Ferda sat across from him and studied his face. Erembalt avoided his gaze, nervously pushing a small jar forward.
“This is honey from the bees raised on the Rosnova estate. As... as the Regent knows...”
“Yes, the honey of House Rosnova is quite famous.”
“Yes, yes. It is.”
“But I’ve grown to loathe it.”
“Ah, I suppose so. The Regent is nearly nineteen, after all—your tastes must have—”
“No. I almost died because of this honey once.”
Ferda’s eyes locked onto him with a chilling intensity.
“Your second son, Huren Rosnova, poured it down my throat and blocked my windpipe.”
Erembalt’s face turned deathly pale. Ferda continued in a flat, toneless voice.
“If I hadn't reached down my own throat to scoop it out, I would have suffocated then and there. Since that day, I tremble at the mere sight of a honey jar.”
“I... I... that is...”
He looked as if he were about to offer the excuse that he hadn't known.
“There were five servants who witnessed it. It seems none of them felt the need to report it to you, Lord Rosnova.”
“I am sorry. I have no excuse. If you wish for punishment, I will administer it myself. No, if that is not enough, I will bring him here and have him punished in your presence...”
“No. That’s enough. Just get to the point.”
Ferda leaned back into his chair. He had no desire to continue this hollow small talk.
“The thing is... Big Sister recently raided House Rosnova.”
Big Sister. It was Erdes Roton’s alias—a title of both respect and mockery.
“She must have gone to ask about me.”
“Yes. She asked about the Regent.”
“And you told her everything.”
“No, not quite everything...”
“Do not even think about lying to me, Lord Rosnova,” Ferda warned in a low, dangerous voice. “Erdes already knows that I use black magic. Those who practice the dark arts face the execution of their entire lineage. The fact that you are still alive means you denied my existence while simultaneously spilling everything you knew to save your own skin, does it not?”
Erembalt flinched. His dry lips worked soundlessly, flapping like a fish out of water.
“Am I wrong?” Ferda pressed.
Erembalt broke into a cold sweat and lowered his head.
“You are... correct.”
Yes, Ferda had known. He had known from the moment he was kicked out that this man didn't consider him his child.
‘I already knew this.’
The past tried to claw its way out. A surge of emotion rose in his chest, and a headache throbbed against his skull.
“So, did you travel all this way just to offer a confession?”
Ferda still couldn't fathom the purpose of this visit.
“I simply came to tell you one thing that I failed to mention before.”
“Speak.”
“Regent... do you remember Anna Rosnova?”
The name was enough to provoke a flash of anger. Sensing Ferda’s darkening expression, Erembalt quickly corrected himself.
“No, what I mean to ask is... do you truly remember your mother, Anna Rosnova?”
Even the correction failed to soothe Ferda’s irritation.
“Isn't that obvious? She was my mother. And she was your wife.”
“She should have been. That’s how it should be, but...” Erembalt struggled to find the words. “That memory... it feels so foreign to me.”
The words dug deep, piercing Ferda’s heart. It sounded like a cruel joke. He was furious, yet a hysterical laugh threatened to burst out. He felt like he was losing his mind.
Ferda forced himself to answer rationally.
“My mother, Anna Rosnova, had blonde hair and blue eyes. You used to praise her, saying she was a woman far too beautiful for someone like you.”
Every moment flashed through Ferda’s mind like a revolving lantern. He remembered them eating together, laughing, holding hands, and whispering words of love. He remembered how those displays of affection used to give him goosebumps. It made no sense for the man who had been there to claim he didn't remember.
“The only thing I remember clearly is a vagrant walking in, carrying a child,” Erembalt said.
No, "spat out" was a better description. To Ferda, it felt like the man was spitting on his memories.
“Thinking back... I had no reason to take that woman in. Even though I had lost my wife, I already had two sons. I wasn't lonely. I only realized this again after she died. So...”
“So, what are you trying to say?”
Erembalt looked at Ferda with a face drenched in terror.
“I wanted to tell you that you and I share no blood. So, please...” He bowed his head low, touching the table. “I beg you to completely sever all ties with House Rosnova.”
Ferda was speechless. His mind frantically tried to grasp at words, but they slipped through his fingers. His head was a chaotic mess of confusion.
Why do I have to listen to this garbage? Why did he come to me, just when I thought I could forget everything and move on, only to pick at the scab? I finally managed to let go. Why are you dragging it back out and shoving it in my face?
Of all people, why must you, the one I hated most, do this to me again...
Ferda felt his consciousness growing distant. His emotions were threatening to swallow him whole. He quietly closed his eyes, trying to steady his heart.
But all he felt was the violent surge of his mana circuits. And a sweet, dark whisper.
Ferda knew that voice. It was the same voice he had heard in his ear when Ruri was in danger.
Kill him.
Just kill him.
Back then, you turned him into an empty shell. This time, just strangle the life out of him.
You have to give back every ounce of pain he gave you.
Why are you hesitating?
The first kill is hard,
But the second is easy, isn't it?
Those words snapped Ferda back to his senses. The circuits in his chest were spinning so violently it felt as if he might break through to the 6th Circle at any moment.
But that wasn't all. When he opened his eyes, he saw something startling.
Behind the trembling Erembalt Rosnova, a pair of black arms had manifested. Could Erembalt use Shadow Arts? Impossible. Those shadows were limbs created by Ferda’s own subconscious will. They had reached out toward Erembalt’s face, poised to seize his throat at any second.
Ferda quickly withdrew the shadows. Suppressing his dizzying emotions, he spoke with forced calm.
“Leave, Lord Rosnova.”
Despite his words, an ominous aura permeated the room. Erembalt scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping. Just before he reached the door, he paused and looked back.
“Thank you for your mercy, Regent.”
With that, he was gone. Was that a final spark of paternal affection, or was he just fawning to avoid future retribution? Ferda had no way of knowing. His mind was a jumble.
“Lord Ferda.”
Ruri entered the moment the man left.
“What kind of conversation did you have to make him leave with a face like that...?”
Ruri trailed off. Ferda was staring blankly into space, his head bowed. It was an expression Ruri had never seen on him before.
“Ruri.”
A heavy voice emerged from his struggling lips.
“Can I ask a favor of you?”
“Please, tell me.”
Ferda spoke with a trembling voice.
“I want to go... see my mother.”
“I understand. Just tell me the location, and I will take you there immediately.”
“Go to the Rosnova estate.”
“Yes.”
Stepping out onto the terrace, Ruri pulled Ferda into a tight embrace. It wasn't the hold of someone carrying a passenger, but a genuine, protective hug. She took flight like a comet, arriving at the main gate of the Rosnova mansion in an instant.
“Where is the grave?”
Ferda didn't answer. Instead, he turned and began to walk. It wasn't toward the estate grounds. Ruri, who had assumed the grave would be in the family cemetery, followed him silently.
Ferda walked without a word. Ruri knew how poor his physical stamina was. Before long, the sound of his ragged breathing and pounding heart reached her ears.
“Lord Ferda.”
“...”
“You’re out of breath. Why don't we rest for a moment?”
Ferda didn't answer. He just kept moving his feet like a man possessed. Ruri could have stepped in front of him to stop him, but she didn't have the heart. She didn't have the courage to face the heavy burden weighing down his shoulders, or the expression he was wearing right now.
She followed behind him in silence. He was drenched in sweat, gasping for air, until finally, his feet stopped.
They were in a barren plain. A desolate stretch of land with nothing but a single tree stump. It didn't feel like he had stopped simply because he was exhausted.
“Is it here?”
Ferda nodded.
“Where is the grave?”
Ruri looked around several times, searching for a headstone. But no matter how hard she looked, there was no sign of a burial.
“There is no grave.” Ferda reached his hand out into the empty air. “This is where... I sent my mother away.”
“You mean... she was cremated?”
It was the tradition for knightly families to be buried. Even a concubine, once part of a noble house, should have been laid to rest in the family plot.
“As soon as my mother died, they burned her body. They even tried to have the servants throw her ashes away like trash.”
“...”
“So I gathered them myself. I carefully wrapped the ashes, bit by bit, and put them in a jar.”
Ferda looked down at his hands. They were empty, but the sensation of those ashes was still vivid.
“That day, I wanted to scatter the ashes somewhere my father didn't know. Even if they scattered in the wind, I wanted to find a place where I could remember her.”
“...”
“So I walked until I was so exhausted I felt my soul might leave my body. I just wanted to reach a place that felt right. That place was here.”
Ferda looked up at the sky. In the dry sky and earth, the traces of a life were coldly scattered. Ferda’s gaze dropped to the stump.
“There used to be a tree here. A lonely tree standing in the middle of the plain. It felt like me—left all alone—so I secretly scattered her ashes under its roots.”
“Then why is there only a stump...?”
“A servant must have followed me. And they cut the tree down.”
“...They did something so cruel to a child who had just lost his mother?”
Ruri was furious. As someone who knew the value of family, this was an unforgivable sin. She clenched her fists, regretting that she hadn't threatened that man more before letting him leave.
“I thought it was my fault,” Ferda’s voice trembled. “I thought if I hadn't been so weak, if I had shown the talent of an excellent knight, I could have protected my mother’s final resting place...”
His own weakness. A body so frail that no amount of effort left a trace. Until the day he died in his past life, Ferda had never been physically strong.
“And so, I was kicked out of the house.”
Ruri knew the story up to that point. What followed was something only Ferda knew. He began to pour it out.
“I trained as a mage, and in a short time, I surpassed even the most talented geniuses. I even reached the 3rd Circle.”
Back then, Ferda hadn't been consumed by hatred. In his heart, there was still a young boy who wanted to be recognized. The boy thought: Maybe Erembalt will accept me now?
In truth, Erembalt had once been a father full of affection. He was a good father to his other sons, faithful to his first wife, and a man Ferda had once idolized. He just wasn't that way toward Ferda.
The boy believed that the bond of family still remained. He wanted to believe the world wasn't filled only with malice. The young Ferda wanted his father to simply ask for forgiveness.
— How dare you set foot here!
The moment he had entered the mansion, he was met with a roar as if he were a mortal enemy.
— You are no longer my son! You dare show your face again just because you learned some petty magic tricks?! Get out of my sight this instant!
The words were hotter than fire and colder than ice. His eldest brothers, Eren and Huren, had personally beaten Ferda and thrown him into the street.
It had rained that day. His mouth was full of blood, and his body was soaked. Half-dead, it wouldn't have been strange if he had died right then. If he hadn't crawled with sheer spite to find shade, he surely would have become a corpse.
That day, the boy realized. He realized that hope was a mere illusion that only served to prolong a miserable life.
The boy killed the angel in his heart. His soul was filled only with the voice of a demon. Seeking mercy only brought greater pain, and at the end of hatred, he harbored yet more hatred. It was only when he felt the emptiness at the end of his life that he finally regretted everything.
“I thought... that was the end.”
Because he had regretted it so deeply, he had decided to live for a single, clearer purpose in this life. He believed that demon was dead. He believed he could regain his innocence.
“But it hasn't changed.”
“What hasn't?”
“The hatred.”
The little monster his father had created.
“The hatred that turned me into a monster, that turned me into such a hollow shell...” Ferda clutched his chest. “It’s still here, inside my heart.”
Ruri, looking down at him, couldn't find the words. It was Ferda who broke the silence again.
“Ruri.”
“...Yes.”
“When I met my father just now, I tried to kill him.”
“A father like that deserves to die.”
“It wasn't my will. It was an impulse.”
That was what Ferda feared most. He feared that, just as he had unconsciously tried to kill his father, he might unknowingly choose a path that would lead to Valdrova’s destruction. The fact that such a monster still lived inside him was a massive burden.
But how could he say that? He didn't want to burden Ruri any further.
“Stop saying such pathetic things,” Ruri scolded him, her voice sharp with complaint. “You are the Regent of the Archduchy of Valdrova, the ruler of Hestia Village, and the fiancé of the Great Fire. Did you not decide to wear the crown, prepared to have your neck broken by its weight?”
“...”
“You mustn't speak so weakly. Straighten your back and square your shoulders. Wear an expression befitting your station. It is a luxury for you to have such worries, Lord Ferda. You shouldn't be wasting time in a place like this. Go back and get to work.”
Ruri took another step closer.
“If you ever lose your judgment and become a monster...” Her small hands reached out. “I will stop you with these hands.”
Her hands wrapped around his neck. Her soft skin felt warm against him. Following her touch, Ferda’s head was lifted. Ruri was wearing the clumsy mask of an adult, trying to be strong for him.
“I will execute you myself.”
Despite her bravado, the mask began to crack.
“So...” Her face was flooded with sadness. “That stupid expression... please leave it behind in this moment forever.”
His emotions were threatening to submerge even Ruri. If Ruri was like this, how would Valdrova feel? She would suffer even more.
Ferda felt his mind clearing.
“I’ve been saved by you again.” Ferda managed a faint smile. “Thank you.”
* * *
Meanwhile, there was someone watching Ferda and Ruri from a distance.
It was Olivia Arken.